


As Time Goes By

by SadlyAddley



Category: Common Law
Genre: Angst, Cancer, Character Death, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-04
Updated: 2013-10-30
Packaged: 2017-12-04 06:31:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/707621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SadlyAddley/pseuds/SadlyAddley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One diagnosis can change everything the second it leaves your mouth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Fundamental Things

**Author's Note:**

> Work in progress. Posting only because I'm forcing my friends to read it :D
> 
> and I need motivation to finish it.
> 
> Written mostly because every fandom needs that one fic :D

 

 

 

 

**"It always seems impossible until it's done."**

**-Nelson Mandela**

**___________________________________________________**

  
**January**

  
When Wes drops a few pounds, he doesn't think much of it. After all, he's got a lot of work-related stress these days, as well as being partnered with an absolute maniac. It's not exactly a surprise when he sees the number has gone down a bit.

He's missed a few lunches. So what? He hasn't felt all that hungry recently, now that he thinks about it.

Travis seems to notice the next time he wraps his arms around Wes from behind, but he doesn't say anything.

Wes shrugs it off, and he and Travis are back to the usual the next time they're at work.

"You know, Travis, you do have your own stapler."

"It's... not nearby. Yours is more convenient."

  
Wes rolls his eyes. This is the third time this week Travis has "lost his stapler" and insists on using Wes's.

"You cannot use my stapler. Take care of your things."

"Like you?" Travis coos, batting his eyelashes at Wes and staring up at him with those puppy-dog eyes of his.

Wes stares for awhile, grumbles something, and then grudgingly hands over the stapler.

Travis looks smug.

-

When Wes gets nauseas for the first time in years, he figures it's a stomach bug.  
  
"You sound horrible. There is no way you're going into work today." Travis calls, leaned on the wall outside of the bathroom where Wes is perched over the sink, pale faced and feeling like throwing up the entirety of his insides.

"I never take a sick day." he says through gritted teeth, "Don't you have anything better to do than stand there and listen to me puke?"

"Nope!" Travis's cheerful reply is almost enough to make Wes feel better again, and he actually laughs for a second before he's forced to shut up when he gags.

Travis brings him a wet towel and some water, both of which Wes grudgingly accepts as he's half dragged away from the sink and put back to bed.

"You and I are staying in today." Travis says sternly.

Wes only rolls over and mumbles something that sounds like "I hate you, Travis." when his partner places the cool towel on his head.

"Love you, too, honey." he laughs, and Wes hides an exhausted grin beneath the blankets.

-

It's not long after the stomach bug that Wes wakes up with a very unfamiliar pain in his abdomen. When he tells Travis about it, he is nagged insistently that he go to the doctor.

"C'mon, Wes. You've lost weight that you haven't been gaining back. You got that stomach bug only two weeks ago! You're never this sick."

"Maybe somethings going around, Travis." Wes mumbles, pausing in his steps to pick up a file off of one of the other detectives' desks.  
Travis bumps into him from behind.

"Really, Travis?" Wes grunts, turning around to face him and take a hold of his shoulders, "You keep following me around like a lost dog. It's starting to bug me."

"Just go to the doctor. After work. Then I'll leave you alone." Travis offers, grinning cheekily at his partner.

Wes stares at him for a long time, but eventually he sighs and dips his head, admitting defeat and putting his hands up.

"Fine. IF they'll see me on such short notice."

"Great! 'cause you have an appointment at 4 o'clock and I didn't really want to drag you in there kicking and screaming." Travis says, and Wes nearly slugs him right across the jaw.

"...You're impossible."

"But you looooove me, Wesley."

"...It's Wes."

-

         After a thorough examination, some painful prods at his lymph nodes, a scan, and his doctor leaving in a rush to run some more tests, Travis and Wes are left alone in a room at the doctor's office. Wes was instructed to sit and wait on the examination table, but instead he's slowly pacing back and forth, hands on his hips and his eyes on the floor. Travis, on the other hand, is casually kicked back in a chair with his feet up.

"You're really unprofessional, Travis."

"And you're anal and nervous." Travis shoots back without missing a beat, looking over at Wes and grinning when he sees his partner has stopped pacing and is now giving him what he likes to call the "Deadly Wes Glare."

"I should cut you of-" Wes starts to threaten, but silences himself when the doctor comes in.

"So? What is it? I keep telling Travis not to worry bu-" he trails off at the grave look on his physician's face.

Wes's partial smile fades in an instant.

"What?"

"I'm terribly sorry to say, Mr. Mitchell, but..."

"...What is it?" Wes asks carefully, but he's very sure he's better off not knowing by the look he's getting.

Wes doesn't catch everything the doctor says next, because he's tuned out. His entire body is frozen solid.

I'm sorry. Inoperable. Cancer. Spread.  
There's talk about options. Arrangements. Treatments that they could try, but Wes knows will fail.

 _Cancer_.

Wes has cancer.

Of all the people in the world, it's Wes.

The guy who's never taken a sick day in his entire life.

Wes dares a look at Travis, and isn't surprised to see he's reacting strongly. That's what he's like, after all. Unpredictable.

  
He overreacts.

Wes is completely and utterly numb, but he manages to pull himself together long enough to thank the doctor for his time and pull Travis to his feet.

  
His partner looks like he's about to shoot someone. Or scream. Yell. Get angry.

 

Possibly all of the above at once.

  
Wes won't allow it, and Travis knows that.

 

"We can make you as comfortable as possible, but...." Wes's physician says, but Wes shakes his head.

"...We'll have to talk about it."

His doctor solemnly nods and quietly exits the room. As soon as the door clicks shut, Travis is yelling like the walls aren't as thin as they are.

"Cancer? Cancer, Wes? Who the hell do these idiots think they are?! You don't have cancer! It's not... It can't be... You can't..."  
He's huffing and puffing and angry but it's not long before his shouts fade into disbelieving breaths of air and he's staring at Wes like a petrified child.

"You're not... you can't just... you're... Wes...?" Travis is panting now, his eyes wide and starting to get redder and wetter.  
Wes grabs Travis by the shoulders and holds him steady.

"We're going home, Travis. Let's go."

There's some initial, automatic resistance from Travis at first, but it's not long until they're both back in Wes's car and Wes is driving them back home.

When they do make it back, Travis is still angry. He's still denying. He's still yelling.

  
It seems like he's going through all the grief stages in one sitting.

  
Wes, on the other hand, keeps quiet.

  
He is completely numb.

  
He's realizing what this means and for once in his life he's lost and he doesn't have control anymore.

 

**February**

  
Wes takes time off work. After all, he's not sure how much longer he'll even be alive, and who wants to spend their final days in the office?  
Travis is supportive. Angry, still, but supportive nonetheless.

"You know, you can still go to work." Wes says at one point, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He's about to get up when Travis pushes him back down and hands him a glass of water.

"True, but what would I do without my pain in the ass partner?" Travis says with a grin that widens when Wes can't help but smile back and laugh.

Then it dawns on him that Travis is going to find out just what it'll be like without him, and he almost chokes on the water when he takes a sip.

-

"Wake up, Wes!"

Wes groans, burying his head in the blankets and putting a pillow over his head.

"Seriously, wake up." Travis says, giving him a gentle shake.

"What time is it?"

"Almost five-thirty. Come on. Up!"

"Five..?! Travis, there is no way in hell I am getting up right now!" Wes grumbles, pulling the blankets over his head.

"I was hoping you'd say something like that." Travis replies, and Wes can hear the grin in his voice. He's about to tell him to go away and let him sleep when he feels two strong arms underneath his body and he's suddenly being hoisted up. Taken by surprise, Wes clings to the closest object... that just happens to be Travis, who is holding him to his chest bridal style.

"Travis, no. Put me down. I'm serious, Travis, if you don't put me down right now I swear I'm going to-"  
Travis cuts him off with a kiss, and Wes honestly can't remember what he was going to say after that. That seems to have been Travis's plan, too, because he only pulls away when Wes looks dazed enough to not keep complaining.

"...Okay, what are you doing?" Wes asks, giving Travis an unhappy look.

"Taking you somewhere. We have to leave within the next ten minutes, though, or we'll miss it." Travis replies with a shrug, putting Wes back on his feet and grinning at him.

"Come on! Get dressed!" he says excitedly, giving Wes a quick peck before he ducks out of the room, "Wear something comfortable! No tightass suits."

"You love me in a suit!" Wes shoots back, laughing at Travis when he hears him scoff from the other room.  
Wes gets dressed, and emerges from the bedroom in a hoodie and jeans.

"Good enough?"

"Perfect." Travis replies, and Wes doesn't even have time to react before Travis scoops him up into his arms again and carries him to the car.

Travis lets him listen to the jazz station on the way there.

It turns out, Travis is taking him to the beach. It's still dark out when Travis parks the car, so Wes isn't exactly sure what they're doing here. It's too cold to even go near the water at this time of day.  
Undeterred, Travis goes around to the passenger's side and opens the door for Wes, wrapping him in a blanket he pulls from the back seat and, once again, insisting that he carry Wes. Knowing he won't take 'no' for an answer, Wes rolls his eyes and doesn't complain when Travis picks him up again with ease.

"Damn, you're a skinny little thing these days!" Travis notes, sitting down in the sand with Wes on his lap, wrapped up in the thick blanket and being carefully defended from the sand by Travis.

"Oh, shut up." Wes snorts, shrugging the blanket onto his shoulders and leaning back into Travis when his partner wraps his arms around his middle and pulls him closer to his chest.

"What are we doing here, anyways? It's still dark and it's freezing cold." Wes mumbles after a moment of thought.

Travis kisses him on the cheek and Wes smiles.

"Oh, quit whining." Travis chuckles, teasing him with the pet name and receiving a smack on the leg for it from Wes.

It's not long until the sun starts to show itself, and suddenly it's like the sky has been lit on fire as red, orange, and yellow all streak across the clouds and reflect off the ocean's water.

"You're certainly a romantic." Wes says after awhile, chuckling as he glances back to him.

"Course I am. Someone has to be." Travis teases back, kissing his cheek and pulling him close, his arms tightly wrapped around Wes's middle.  
"You hardly ever leave the apartment. So, I figured you could use something like this."

Wes is quiet for a moment, only a brief one, before he quietly leans back into Travis's arms and rests his head against his partner's shoulder.

"Thank you, Travis."

**March**

The cancer is furious these days, but Wes is resilient. He tries to act tough, even when he wakes up some days in excruciating pain and Travis is there holding him until it dies down enough for him to try and move.

Treatment is violent, and Wes complains that it's more agonizing than the cancer itself, but Travis is always there next to him when they go to the hospital, and they both manage to keep each other smiling.  
Even when Wes is hooked up to a machine for hours on end, they always wind up talking and lauging by the end of it.

After treatments, Wes is usually completely exhausted, and there's always times when he falls asleep in the car on the way home. On those days, Travis is more than happy to carry Wes up to the apartment and put him to bed. Occasionally, Wes will wake up and mumble some complaint about being carried, but Travis typically doesn't listen to him.  
He even swears that, sometimes, Wes pretends to be asleep if he's too exhausted to walk up the stairs by himself.

On one particularly bad night, Travis carries Wes up as usual and puts him to bed early, despite complaints from his partner. It's obvious that Wes is in a terrible amount of pain, and there's a high probability that he won't be able to get very much sleep tonight.

Travis grabs the bottle of pain medication from the counter top and offers Wes the pills, helping him drink from a glass to wash the bitter capsules down, rubbing his back when he almost chokes on them.

Today is another bad day.

When the pain has dulled enough, Travis wraps an arm around Wes and lays down with him on the bed, but Wes is restless by now and can't seem to calm down.

Travis, used to the challenge of calming his partner in many situations, quietly hums a jazz song he'd heard on Wes's radio some day on the way to the hospital. For the life of him, he can't remember what it's called, but he knows Wes likes it.  
Wes recognizes it, as Travis knew he would,, and Travis smiles when he feels the drumming of Wes's fingers on his chest. At first, Travis isn't sure what he's doing, but it soon dawns on him when he recognizes that Wes is drumming along with his humming.

Piano. Travis remembers, Wes plays the piano...

Furrowing his brow, Travis realizes he's never heard Wes play before, and he's about to say so when he notices Wes's fingers have stopped their quiet drumming. When he looks up, he's met with the sight of his exhausted partner, who's quickly dozed off and lays there completely still aside from the slight rise and fall of his chest when he breathes

Travis wouldn't dare to wake him up right now, so instead he carefully shifts his position and follows Wes's example, dozing off fairly soon after him.

 


	2. Sticks & Stones

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is pretty much just completely full of angst and whatnot
> 
> I was feeling cruel that day...
> 
> Short update. Terribly sorry ;_; next should be longer and hopefully will be up soon...

**April**

      Wes's appetite is improved. He's eating well again, and Travis couldn't be happier. He almost looks healthy, not so pale and thin anymore, but skinny enough for Travis to remember that Wes isn't well.

Travis realizes that Wes may never be well again.

It's hard for Travis to see him like this, thin and sickly while the cancer attacks every organ in his body.  
Travis thanks whatever god is listening for Wes' life, but he knows it's not over yet.

They have another appointment at the hospital this afternoon. When they arrive, Travis is apparently feeling particularly playful, because he forces Wes into a wheelchair at the door, dutifully ignoring the protests Wes makes when he does.

"Travis, what the hell?"

"Shut up. This is going to be awesome."

"What..? Travis, what are you-" Wes starts to question his partner suspiciously, but is cut off when Travis suddenly lurches forward and takes off down the hallway full speed towards the wing Wes' chemotherapy is given in, which they need to be at in...

..Less than five minutes.

Wes damn near yelps as Travis rushes them down the halls, much to the disapproval of the staff, who either duck out of the way or look at them with scowling expressions. At first, Wes is apprehensive about it, but by the time they're halfway there, they've taken so many sharp turns that Wes is just laughing by then, even giving a cheerful whoop when Travis shoots them around the corner and takes off full speed towards the oncology department.

They nearly crash at least three times in the final stretch, but Travis finally skids them to a stop when they're about 2 feet from the door, and Wes nearly falls out of the chair in a fit of laughter when a nurse gives them both a glare. By the time they're at a full stop, Wes is laughing so hard he's clutching his stomach and can't even breathe properly, and Travis is no better, in such a fit he has to lean against the wall to catch his breath, and they both just sit there and laugh for a good five minutes before Wes' oncologist, Dr. Miles, steps out to see what the fuss is about.

Upon seeing Travis and Wes very clearly laughing their damn asses off, she smiles and shakes her head.

"Mr. Mitchell, we can start your chemotherapy whenever you're ready." she says, and Wes wipes his eyes and attempts to speak through his endless giggling, but he can't get the words out.

Travis cuts in, breathlessly managing to gasp out a "Give us a minute" before he's sliding down the wall to the floor and giggling like a maniac.

"Don't do anything crazy, you two." the doctor chuckles and slips back inside, leaving the two to laugh themselves to tears in the middle of the empty hallway.

Wes is the first to catch his breath, and once he does, he grins foolishly at his partner, an expression Travis hasn't seen in a very long time.

  
"You are going to get us both kicked out." he says with a breathless chuckle, leaning back in the chair and resting his hands on his aching stomach.

Travis only beams at him, staggering to his feet and leaning down behind Wes' chair, giving him a quick, somewhat awkward, upside down kiss. Wes smiles against his lips and kisses right back, patting Travis' cheek when he pulls away.

"You're an idiot."

"You weren't complaining two minutes ago."

"I was laughing too hard to complain two minutes ago." Wes shoots back in a playful tone as Travis wheels him inside.

"Ready, Wes?" Dr. Miles asks, looking up from the medical chart when she spots the pair.

"As I'll ever be." Wes replies, back to his professional self again now he's in his oncologist's office, but he still can't help the grin. She smiles at him and nods at Travis to follow her as she leads them into one of the patient rooms.

"Alright, Wes, you know the drill." she says, patting the examination table invitingly as she smiles at him.

Wes, used to all of this by now, hops up onto the table and folds his hands in his lap.

"No public chemo today?" he asks lightheartedly, typically familiar with sitting with the other patients while they get their treatment.

"Not today." Dr. Miles says, writing something down, staring at something on the paper as she flips through his chart, "Hmm.."

Wes' face falls.

He's heard that sound before.

"...Something wrong?" he asks, but he's certain he really shouldn't inquire. That sound is not one that typically brings good news.

"...Well, Wes, I hate to say it... but it looks like the chemo isn't doing as good as we hoped.." Dr. Miles says, looking up with a sad expression.

A lump has formed in Wes' throat. He can't bring himself to speak.

Luckily, Travis comes to his rescue, taking Wes' clenched fist in his hand as he eyes the oncologist.

"What do you mean?" he asks.

"It seems it's done more damage than anything else... Wes' immune system is shot. I'm afraid whatever improvement we saw previously was just... Temporary." she explains, closing the file and folding her hands as she looks between them both, "We thought we could treat it, but it looks like it's come back full force... There's, unfortunately, not much else we can do at this rate."

"I'm... terribly sorry, Mr. Mitchell." she adds, looking genuinely sorrowful when she looks at Wes.

Travis looks defeated, and Wes feels about the same. He's exhausted his immune system, and for what? Nothing.

He's going to die anyway.

Probably sooner than if he hadn't done the chemo.

"...How..." Wes starts to ask a question, but his throat closes up after the first word. He swallows the lump in his throat and holds Dr. Miles' gaze, clearing his throat before he tries again.

"How long do I have?"

"A year, maybe, at most?" she suggests, but by her tone, Wes can tell she's not one-hundred-percent certain.

"..Thanks." Wes says, and stands up to leave, but she's quick to grab his hand and stop him.

"...Mr. Mitchell, if you need help... making arrangements.." she says slowly, unsure, while Travis seems to size her up, puffing up like an angry cat.

"...Here. Take this. Again, if you or your partner need anything..." she murmurs, slipping a card into Wes' hand.

"...Thanks for trying." Wes says, and she nods and lets go of him. Travis takes his arm and leads him out, and Wes tries his damn hardest not to have a total meltdown as they walk out the door for what's likely to be the last time.

 

 

 **July**  
  
Wes is suffering. Travis knows it, even without him saying anything. He can see it whenever he looks at him, he knows whenever he looks in his eyes. He can see how bad it hurts. He's been through so much, and Travis is amazed at how well he keeps it together.

Wes is stubborn, after all. He doesn't talk about it. He doesn't complain.

Wes doesn't know it, but some of those rare nights, when Wes thinks Travis is sleeping, Travis hears him when it all finally gets under his shell and he's breaking. He knows Wes tries to keep it to himself. He's very quiet about it, and the first time Travis heard him, he thought he was having a bad dream or something... But the tell-tale shaking and soft gasps for breath between sobs gave it away.

Wes seems alright that day, taking everything in stride. He doesn't over exert himself, in fact he doesn't do much the entire day, so by the time he's coming to bed, it's late and Travis is already sprawled out on his side of the bed.

Wes crawls into bed beside him, listening to his deep breaths for several long moments as he feels the tears starting to form in the corners of his eyes, and he can't stop them when they suddenly stream down his face.

Burying his head in the pillow, Wes doesn't try so hard to shut up, too worn out and just exhausted for him to do much more than sob. He's barely aware of the warm hands gripping his small frame at first, tuning in only when Travis is pulling him to his chest, and he wonders for a moment why the world has gone so blurry, but then Travis is wiping his tears away with careful fingers and Wes is aware he's sobbing uncontrollably.

"What did I do wrong?" Wes asks between his gasps, burying his head in Travis' chest.

"Why is this happening to me?"

"Shhh... Wes..." Travis tries to hush him. He can't bring himself to say it's okay, that everything is going to be alright, because none of this is okay. It's not going to get better.

Travis just can't lie to him.

"Wes, buddy, look at me. Hello."

Wes doesn't listen, bringing it on Travis, who gently nudges his chin upwards with his index finger.

"Hey."

Wes almost cracks a smile, but he's too heart broken to manage one without trembling.

"Just... try to forget about it. Take it one step at a time."

"I can't... I can't, Travis..." Wes cries, and he realizes with a jolt that no matter how hard he tries, he's shaking and sobbing so much that he doesn't know how to stop.

"Then let me help you." Travis says in a warm voice, and with that, Wes melts, leaning into his partner's chest as Travis runs his hand along his side.

"We're going to be just _fine_."


	3. Fly Me To The Moon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so, I rushed to get to the end of this, really... Sorry if there are some bad parts.
> 
> Anyway, um, I hope you guys don't resent me too much for this!
> 
> Enjoy.

  
**September**

Wes' spirits are high lately, and Travis wishes he could say the same for his blood count. They finally moved the piano from Alex's place, and Wes was ecstatic about it. He hasn't had a chance to sit down and play yet, but today is different. Travis wakes him up at the usual time, makes sure he gets dressed, they eat, and then Travis grabs him by the shoulders and sits him down at the shiny grand piano in the corner of the living room.

"I've never heard you play before." he says, seeing Wes' raise an eyebrow in questioning when Trabis makes him sit.

"Never?"

"Never."

Wes laughs and shifts his position slightly, placing his fingers over the keys.

"I guess we'll have to fix that... but you don't like jazz music." Wes notes, glancing back at Travis and giving him a look.

"I can dig jazz, baby." Travis says, and with a shrug, Wes flexes his hands, places them in position, and starts to play.

The notes fill the room as Wes' fingers slide over the keys. It's amazing how easy he makes it seem, Wes never missing a single beat while Travis just watches, swaying just a bit. He's never been one for jazz, to be honest, but Wes makes it sound damn good.

When the song ends, Travis is a little disappointed, but he clasps his hands onto Wes' shoulders and gives him an affectionate shake.

"How have I never heard you play before?" he asks, grinning as he pulls his partner back to his feet.

"Because my piano has been at Alex's for the past few years." Wes snorts, smirking as Travis wraps his arms around his middle and pulls him back against him, kissing the back of his neck.

"True... Now that it's here, you'll just have to play it more often."

"Fine by me."

Travis spins him around and kisses him hard, pinning him to the wall.

"I love you."

"Ditto."

 

**October**

Wes is tired all the time. Some days it's so bad he can't even get out of bed.

Travis does his best to keep him as healthy as possible, not to mention happy, but he knows Wes is depressed. Hell, he probably is, too. They have no idea how long he has left, or what Travis is going to do when he's...

Shit.

Travis shakes off the dread that just took over him, deciding to just take it one day at a time. After all, Wes needs him right now, even if he won't admit it. Travis has to take care of them both.

Responsibility was never his strong suit, he'll admit that, but this is Wes, and he's worth every second.

Travis shakes his head and fills a glass with water before heading back into the bedroom. Wes is curled up on his side, no doubt in a lot of pain and probably exhausted, so Travis is as quiet as possible as he comes in. He reaches over Wes to set the glass on the bedside table, but is surprised to find Wes' eyes are open.

"Hey, I thought you were asleep." Travis murmurs, setting the glass down and moving his hand to gently run through Wes' blonde hair.

"Can't sleep." Wes replies simply, not looking up at him.

"Need another pill?" Travis asks, rubbing Wes' back with his other hand.

Wes shakes his head, curling up into a tighter ball underneath the sheets.

"I hate those pills."

"I know, baby... but they help, don't they?"

"Yeah, but what's the point, Travis?"

Travis pauses, furrowing his brow in uncertainty as he wraps an arm around Wes' waist and pulls him closer.

"...What do you mean?"

"Oh, come on, Travis," Wes says in a huff, turning around to face him, "I'll be dead in... God knows how long. What's the point?"

Travis is admittedly taken aback. Wes is more depressed than he'd thought he was.

"...Don't... Talk like that, Wes. It's going to be okay..."

"Don't fucking tell me it'll be okay!" Wes snaps suddenly, sitting up, "It's not okay. None of this okay!"

"I know, I know, and I'm sorry... I'm really sorry, but Wes-"

"Go away."

"Wes..." Travis starts to protest, sitting up and reaching for his partner, who only shakes his head and pushes him away.

"I mean it, Travis."

He can hear the tremor in Wes' voice, and as much as he wants to stay and make everything alright again, he knows that's not an option right now. Travis retreats from the bed, watching as Wes turns his back to him and tucks his head against his chest. He slips out of the room and quietly shuts the door behind him, but he doesn't go much farther than that.

He finds himself sitting on the floor next to the door for some time, not knowing what time it is or how long he's been there. He hasn't heard anything from the room in awhile, and is half tempted to get up and check the clock when he hears the door open. Travis lifts his head, and there's Wes, skinny, little bitty Wes standing in the door frame, looking broken and lost, and Travis' expression softens. He opens his arms invitingly and without even hesitating, Wes joins him on the floor, wrapping his arms around him and just crying into his shoulder.

Travis doesn't say anything. He doesn't try to tell him it'll be okay, cause it's not. There's nothing they can do about any of this... and that just sucks.

Wrapping both arms around Wes, Travis pulls him close to his chest and hums a slow little tune, one Wes recognizes after awhile, and it's not long before they're both laughing and singing along.

_Fill my heart with song and let me sing forever more_

_You are all I long for_

_All I worship and adore_

_In other words_

_Please be true_

_In other words_

_I love you_

**November**

They're at the hospital again. It's pretty much home now for the two of them, since Wes has moved in permanently for his last few months. He rarely leaves Wes' side these days, and he spends his time taking care of him, practically living with him at the hospital.

Home care isn't cutting it anymore, it seems. Wes' immune system is practically non existent, and he can't afford to be in the apartment all the time without a doctor around.  
Wes protested at first, claiming he was "going to die anyways, so why did it matter where..."  
Eventually, Travis convinced him otherwise, wanting the best for Wes... Even if that meant he couldn't stay home anymore.

The nurses are sweet (maybe a little too sweet, as Travis jokingly pointed out) and the doctors occasionally visit to check up on him, but most of the time the two are left on their own.

Wes stays in bed most days, which is fine by Travis. They spend most of their time talking, and when they're not doing that, Wes usually just falls asleep. He's gotten so much worse over the last few weeks, and Travis is rightfully concerned.

Wes is still a little depressed, and Travis is starting to think he's coping a lot better than himself...

Kind of pathetic, when you think about it, but Wes has always been the better of the two, at least to Travis.

Today isn't much different from the last, but Wes seems to be in a lot better mood than he has been for the last week or two.

"Good morning." Travis says with a smile, kissing Wes hello and lightly ruffling his hair.

"Morning." Wes greets back, snorting out a laugh as his hair is mussed up.

"How are you this fine morning?" Travis teases, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"I have cancer. How do you think it's going?" Wes asks, giving him a look. Travis blinks and looks a bit taken aback, but then Wes laughs and Travis gives a snort of laughter.

"Right. I forgot." Travis replies, rolling his eyes playfully when Wes laughs again.

Jokes aside, Travis isn't taking it well. It's on these kinds of days where he looks at Wes and wonders what the hell he's going to do without him.

Then Wes flashes a smile in his direction and Travis forgets for a moment that he's going to die, and for awhile, he can cope.

 


	4. The End of All Things

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of the last few chapters. 
> 
> Don't mind the title, I'm running out of ideas.

**December**

_He's getting worse._

 

**January**

They bury Wes today.

His last hours had been the worst of Travis' life. Moments part of him resented and wished to forget, while another part of him clung to them despite the pain they brought on.

 

Wes had died on a Saturday.

 

The world seemed to carry on, and you'd never believe that day was going to be the last of Wes' life. It was sunny and bright out, and the sky was perfectly blue with not a cloud in sight. The weather was perfect outside.

That morning when Travis came in, bright and early, he already noticed something was wrong.

Wes wasn't able to form complete sentences. Whether because the cancer had gotten to his brain by then or he was just having trouble breathing, no one really knew.

Wes was having a little bit of a hard time breathing by the afternoon, and the nurse had suggested turning him onto his side.

It was almost dark when Travis noticed Wes was looking far worse than usual.

Travis knew this was probably it, despite every hope inside him screaming that it couldn't be so.

He called a nurse, who checked Wes over and quietly pulled Travis aside to talk to him.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Marks, but... He doesn't have much longer."

Travis stiffened.

He couldn't breathe.

This was it.

"...Can I... lay down with him?" he asked automatically, fighting the tears that threatened to spill over.

"Yes, of course..." she said, pulling the curtains to give them a bit of privacy before she'd headed for the door.

"I'm very sorry for your loss..." she added quietly, sounding a bit broken up, her gaze drifting between Travis and Wes before she carefully shut the door behind her.

"Tra..vis...?" Wes mumbled from his place on the bed, his eyes searching the room for him automatically, seeming restless until his gaze finally landed on his partner.

"Hey, buddy." Travis said as he made his way over, forcing a smile as he crawled into the bed next to Wes.

Wes looked at him questioningly, furrowing his brow.

"...It's fine. I'm..." Travis started to reply, but he couldn't say it. He couldn't lie to Wes. Not now.

He was watching his partner... His best friend die.

No one could ever be okay with that.

"...What the hell am I gonna do without you, Wes?"

Wes gave him a saddened look, but he didn't speak, his voice already lost in the rattling of his uneven, distorted breathing.

"Hey, you know, I think you were the one." Travis said, taking Wes' cold hands in his and rubbing them between his own.

Unable to help it, Wes snorted out a quiet, breathless laugh.

"No, really." Travis continued, "I know Dr. Ryan always said I have commitment issues but..." he trailed off, brushing a thumb over Wes' cheek.

"You were the guy I was gonna stay with til we got older and grouchier and chased each other around in our wheelchairs and hit each other canes when our knees stopped workin' right and we couldn't reach our arms out anymore."

 

-

 

"Stay with me..."

Wes had closed his eyes, but Travis urged him to open them again.

_Wake up. Come on, it's not over yet. Please, Wes. Don't sleep. Not now._

Wes' eyes opened and for a moment, everything was okay again. Travis smiled, and he thought for just a brief second that Wes was going to be alright, somehow everything was going to fix itself in that little moment.

Wes smiled back, and Travis was so happy to see him do it, however tired and sick his partner was.

Travis cupped his face and he laughed through his tears.

"I love you. I love you so much."

He knew Wes heard him because there was a spark of life in those beautiful eyes of his, that by now had dulled, losing their usual lively shine as he just got sicker and sicker.

God, he looked so scared.

"It's okay, Wes. I know it hurts. I know. You're trying to hold on, but it's okay. You can go." Travis assured him, wiping the tears from his partner's cheeks as they ran down his face.

Wes smiled at him through the tears, and Travis pulled his frail body into his own.

"God, you're freezing... Hey, you remember that song we heard on the radio? Kenny G covered it, yeah? I looked it up later, y'no..." Travis said, looking down into those beautiful blue eyes.

"Frank Sinatra. Casablanca." he murmured, leaning his head into Wes' and just breathing him in as he started to hum that same old song Wes loved.

It wasn't the same as before. Wes didn't drum his fingers. He didn't sing along. Travis knew it was because Wes had forgotten how to play, and he couldn't remember the words anymore.

But that's okay, because Travis did.

"You must remember this, a kiss is still a kiss... A sigh is just a sigh..."

Wes looked up at him through his tears and Travis knew he recognized the song, even through his bleary confusion.

"The fundamental things apply, as time goes by..."

Wes was having trouble breathing at this point. It came in fast and it sounded strained, fluid starting to collect in his throat and his airways, and somewhere Travis knew it was almost over.

_and when two lovers woo,_

The soft beeps of the monitor were becoming slower and slower.

_they still say: I love you_

**Beep.**

_on that you can rely_

**Beep..**

_No matter what the future brings..._

**Beep...**

_As time goes by..._

Wes stopped breathing entirely.

 

Travis knew he was gone without even looking down. His eyes closed tight as he leaned down and pressed a kiss to Wes' forehead, running his fingers through his hair and taking him in for the final time.

He stayed like that for God knows how long, just clinging to Wes and holding him, and Christ, he never wanted to let go again.

He held him so god damn tight, as if Wes would wake up if Travis just clung to him long enough.

There were people moving around in the room at one point, but Travis was too focused on Wes to pay any mind.

"Mr. Marks?" someone said.

Travis was forced back into the real world when the nurse spoke to him.

God, what is that noise?

Machinery hummed somewhere in the background, and it took far too long for Travis to tune in.

In an instant, Travis was suddenly painfully aware that there was the deafening sound of a flatline in his ears.

"Oh, God..." Travis choked out, everything falling together in a painful jumble.

"Mr. Marks, you have to get up now..."

Travis was frozen.

He couldn't breathe, let alone move.

When the nurse grabbed his arm, Travis recoiled, at first refusing to leave Wes, but after a few moments he'd reluctantly let go of him.   
He felt empty, and there was a gaping hole in his chest where his heart was supposed to be.

Wes was gone.

Travis was staring at Wes' lifeless form and he looked like he was seeing the end of the world.

In a very real and concrete way, there's an excellent chance he was.

He tried to keep it together.

He tried so damn hard.

He couldn't take it. He couldn't accept that Wes was just... here one second, and gone the next.

Travis' usual calm exterior shattered.

"No, you can't just... Please... he's... that's my baby. He's my baby, don't.." Travis choked out through his tears, which freely run down his cheeks.

Dr. Miles was suddenly there, and Travis wondered how long she'd been in the ward. Travis thought she'd have gone home by now...

"This isn't... this isn't how it's supposed to happen. I love him. Don't..."

"I know, Travis. I know. It's okay... I'm sorry... I'm so sorry, Travis."

"We were supposed to... He wasn't- He shouldn't have..." Travis was struggling to find the words, and he felt like he couldn't breathe.

The nurse looked solemn when she turned off the monitor, the flatline coming to a halt, and then she was covering Wes with a sheet and Travis can't take it.

Not Wes.

Not his Wes.

Please, God, anyone but Wes.

"Don't. Don't, please... God, no... Wes-"

Travis caught a final glimpse of his partner before the sheet covered him completely, his eyes reflecting the sunlight streaming in that Wes could no longer see.

 

The torture was finally over.

 

-

 

The funeral is beautiful.

Travis doesn't take the time to appreciate it. He doesn't pay attention when people are taking their turns speaking about Wes. The captain is there, as is Dr. Ryan. Nearly everyone in the department came, and Travis even recognizes a few people from Wes' old job and Travis' as well. People talk and talk about how great Wes was. How he was a great detective. The best in the city, if you asked Travis.

When Travis is finally allowed to see Wes again, he almost smiles.

He looks great. They dressed him up in one of the nicest suits Travis has seen, and he knows Wes would have liked that. He was always a perfectionist.

"You look good." Travis says under his breath, putting his rose across Wes' chest, "Damn good. I think you would have been satisfied. Probably would have laughed at the things people said about you. Or gloated. Probably both." he continues, and he almost laughs.

"...I'm gonna fucking miss you, Wes..." Travis admits, and he almost starts crying again when he realizes just how true that statement is.

It's all "sorry for your loss" after that, and Travis is sick of it by the time he's heading to Wes'-

... _His_  car.

Captain Sutton catches him before he can slip away and offers him his job, telling him he'll leave his position open for as long as Travis needs. Travis thanks him and finally manages to get away after that, retreating back to their old apartment in a hurry.

He can't stand the pity anymore.

He's a mess by the time he gets to the parking lot of their apartment, and he's still crying when he's starting up the stairs to the door.

Travis goes home to an unnaturally quiet apartment. There's no sound other than his own footsteps. There's no Wes to wrap his arms around and kiss hello.

Worst of all, Wes' things are still there, just as he left them when Travis moved them to the hospital.

His suits are neatly hung in the closet, right next to Travis' shirts and jackets where they've always been.

For the eighth time that week and the second that day, Travis completely loses it and breaks down.  
__________________________________

 **"While we are mourning the loss of our friend, others are rejoicing to meet him behind the veil."**  
 **-John Taylor**  
__________________________________

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...and that's that!
> 
> Not really. I have one more thing I wanted to do, so there maaayyy be one or two more chapters to come... but this is basically the gist of it.
> 
> I'd say I'm sorry but I'm kind of not...
> 
> Hope you enjoyed reading as much as I enjoyed writing!
> 
> ...aka none. None at all. Not enjoyable.


	5. Five Stages

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> very short but HEY I UPDATED WOW 
> 
> little bit of denial/anger stages here. more to come!

Travis isn't sure he'll ever get used to Wes' absence. He dreads getting up in the morning. He can't stand the apartment he used to love, its unusual silence driving him insane as time passes.

Wes shows up in his dreams sometimes, just doing the simplest things. Sometimes he plays the piano, sometimes he's just putting away the groceries or reorganizing the bookshelf again. When Travis wakes up he swears Wes just left him and sometimes he almost feels the fading warmth next to him, like maybe Wes got up to make breakfast or maybe just to get dressed.

The truth is Wes is gone. Wes isn't there and he will never come back. Every day he goes through this, and everyone says he's just grieving. This is normal.

Travis doesn't believe them. He can't believe them. Life without Wes by his side can't be normal. It's just not possible.

Travis still hasn't gone back to work and the Captain doesn't blame him. His partner just died, of course no one is going to blame him.

He almost wishes they would. The pity is going to drive him mad in the end.

The worst part of all of this is Travis still hasn't gotten rid of Wes' suits. He's afraid to, to be perfectly honest. Sometimes he thinks, what'll he do if Wes comes back and he doesn't have his suits?

Then, of course, Travis reasons that Wes isn't going to need them because Wes is buried six feet under the earth.

He's not coming back ever again and Travis has to deal with that.

The realization just makes him angry. Wes left him. Wes left him on his own to deal with his death.

The bastard got sick and died and left Travis to pick up the mess.

God, that's so _Wes_ of him. Fuckin' bastard. He does something stupid like dying on him and fuckin' leaves Travis to figure it out on his own.

Travis shakes his head. He can't blame Wes. He just can't.

The thoughts make Travis absolutely _hate_ himself for thinking them. It wasn't Wes' fault. It wasn't.

He died. Wes fucking _died_ and Travis is sitting here complaining about it.

Fuck.

Fuck fuck fuck _fuck FUCK._

The hole he punches into the wall doesn't help Travis feel any better.

Maybe he did deserve the bruised knuckles, though.

Slamming his fist against the wall again, Travis leans his weight against it and closes his eyes. He breathes deeply until he calms down, turning around with his back against the wall until he slides down to the floor and just starts crying.

God, he fucking misses him. He misses him so much and he's realizing just how lost he is without him.

There had been times where he thought for sure he would be alright without Wes, but now he's gone and...

God, he doesn't know what to do.

_What the hell is he supposed to do?_


End file.
